


In That Way

by marcelareads



Category: General Hospital
Genre: Art, F/M, One Shot, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 20:57:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10499337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marcelareads/pseuds/marcelareads
Summary: I envision this as a Franco & Elizabeth a few weeks into their complex and loving relationship. They’re a bit more sexually and emotionally comfortable with each other at this point, but still have feelings and motivations that have yet to be discovered between them.





	

He paints her. 

Well, to be more accurate, he paints on her body. 

It’s their secret thing now; both indulging in the same desire for intimacy born of artistic talent and the tactile nature of a paint-dipped brush stroking on skin.

What started so many weeks ago... that morning waking up to her sketching him as he lay asleep after their first night making love, and finishing with donuts sticky on their fingers, paint splotches on the bed sheets, and lazy kisses as the sun rose fully in the sky, was a gradual awakening to what could be.

They would never deny that they are each other’s muse. 

\----------

Goosebumps rise on her porcelain skin as he delicately sweeps the fibers of the brush along her spine. She smiles into her pillow as he points out that her body is his perfect canvas, its curves giving movement and depth to the greens and blues and reds that sweep up and over her lower back and between her shoulder blades. 

She tries to lie still but he purposely paints over sensitive spots, making her undulate off the bed and into his open hand hovering over provocative places. He gently squeezes her flesh in reassurance of what’s to come.

Elizabeth jumps slightly as she feels Franco blowing softly on those recently painted areas before swatting at his naked thigh half-heartedly in protest. She opens one eye and peeks up at him, trying unsuccessfully to hide her amusement.

“So it dries faster.” Franco whispers as he leans closer, sitting cross-legged beside her.

His pursed lips hover just centimeters above her waist, barely grazing her skin as they pass over fresh brush strokes of orange, burnt-gold, and darkest black. His hair tickles where it makes contact with her skin and she squirms. He sits up again and chuckles at her growing frustration. 

After a couple wrong guesses, she relents to his good-natured teasing. “Tell me.” she says, lifting her head and looking expectantly over her shoulder at him. 

He breaks eye contact with her and looks down, his hair half-hiding the sharp features of his face. She feels him lay the paintbrush down, cool and wet, on the small of her back. She stills in response, quiet and waiting.

“It’s a burning phoenix in flight,” he explains, “grasping a red apple in its sharp talons.” 

It takes a moment before she understands. “Rebirth. Renewal. Love.” 

There’s a pause as Franco allows certain feelings to come to the surface as he considers his next words. 

“Sin. Power. Lust.” he counters, voice low and deep.

Elizabeth’s body shivers in unexpected ways at his tone. “Yes. Those too.” she says, unable to hide her curiosity.

“You’re not surprised.” Franco’s response is not quite a question. 

Her heart clenches a bit, hearing the slight hesitation in his voice. She props herself up on her elbows and reaches out for his hand, seeking his connection, his touch.

“Should I be?” 

“Maybe? Probably.” Franco squeezes her hand. He’s tired of the endless game of half truths and subterfuge his mind automatically reaches for and fights to keep from pulling Elizabeth out of bed and into the shower. He can clearly picture swirls of color pooling and disappearing down the stainless steel drain as he desperately scrubs her back clean.

“But I’m not. You of all people know that art isn’t always about lush landscapes and portraits of beautiful women,” she says, their hands now tightly intertwined among the bedsheets. 

“You’re more than just a beautiful woman, Elizabeth.”

“Don’t change the subject, Franco.” 

“I wasn’t,” he scoffed. Brushing his hair out of his face, he turns to look at her. “I was just stating the obvious.”

“Oh really?” she chided. “Well, what’s obvious to me is that art is a reflection of who we are, how we feel... and I’d never want you to think I’d judge you for it. You taught me that, remember?” 

“Yeah, well… this is a little different.” he cautioned. 

“How?” Elizabeth asks, a small frown etched on her face.

Franco looks to where the paintbrush still rests in the dip of her lower back and tentatively reaches out to part the bristles, touching her pale skin underneath. “The craving to paint and touch your skin at the same time… it… it feeds a part of me that’s not quite _good_.” 

As a crimson spot of paint blooms large under his circling finger, Franco carefully phrases his next words to Elizabeth. “Certain impulses are still tempting for me.” he confesses.

“Franco--” 

“I have to reign myself in when I paint you in this way, Elizabeth.” he interrupts, reaching for her, his thoughts perched precariously between truth and despair. His hand stops just a few centimeters before touching Elizabeth’s face, his fingers flexing slightly, as emotions a thousand layers deep pulse between them. 

He abruptly drops his hand and begins to trace a black wing aflame in rust-orange, cringing at how starkly it stands out against Elizabeth’s luminous skin, “I never want to desecrate you like that,” he chokes out.

“Please don’t do this, Franco.” 

“Do what?”

“Treat me like I’m some pure or fragile being,” she continues. “I know your darker tendencies are still there, but I believe with all my heart that you would never hurt me or make me feel uncomfortable.” 

“You’re the strongest person I know, Elizabeth. You have to know that I’d never question your will, your courage…” he began.

“My love for you?” 

“No. No, never that. But the things I did and said _before_... doesn’t make anything easy between us.” 

“No, it doesn’t,” she agrees, “but each of our past actions have shaped who we’ve become today. And I like who we’ve become.”

Cocking his head to the side, Franco scans her face with the admiration of an artist studying a beautifully wrought sculpture. “And just who have we become, Elizabeth?” 

It seems like minutes before she responds to his question. With her eyes fixed on his, Elizabeth slowly turns to lie on her back, causing the paintbrush to slide off her as streaks of color smear along the bedsheets, marring his artwork. She notices him noticing her in this vulnerable position; open and naked and unmarked. 

Her hand moves delicately down her body until it stops just below her bellybutton. Franco’s eyes burn into hers with a combined look of fascination and naked lust. She touches herself then and shudders at how sensitive she is there. 

Skin flushed pink from sensation, Elizabeth finally answers him. “We’re two people perfectly connected under imperfect circumstances. And we are wholly ourselves; through art, through trust… and through love. That’s who we’ve become, Franco.”

Unable to speak past the knot in his throat, he drinks her in, wanting this perfect moment burned forever into his memory. He notices her nipples harden under his stare and his erection throbs and lengthens in response.

Elizabeth relishes the way Franco’s gaze travels deliberately over her neck and her bare breasts, her stomach, and further down. A drop of pre-cum slowly beads at the tip of Franco’s fully erect cock and she unconsciously licks her bottom lip, leaving it glistening and wet. Franco groans and cups himself, stroking once, his abs clenching in anticipation. 

“Tell me what you want, Franco.” 

“I want… sin. Power. Lust.” Franco murmurs. “With you.” 

“Show me.” she says, her voice thready with nervousness and want.

Franco hesitates for a moment before his fingers meet hers still moving against her drenched heat. His knuckles graze and flick her clit as Elizabeth relinquishes control to his skillful fingers, sending small shockwaves of pleasure through her. She closes her eyes as he rubs her with his thumb a bit harder, a bit faster, her hips pushing up slightly, moving subtly, in order to add more delicious friction to his movements.

“God, you feel incredible,” he rasped, throat going dry as he notices how swollen and pink she is against his fingers. “I need to taste you there.”

“ _Yes_.” Elizabeth’s legs tremble as Franco moves his other hand from his erection to caress her knee and up the inside of her thigh, his mouth following with a trail of kisses along the same invisible path. 

She gasps as his lips and tongue replace his fingers, her squirming pelvis pressing her core harder against his mouth. Elizabeth’s thighs tense as she tries to arch upwards but she’s pinned to the bed by his large hand on her stomach and hip bone. A glorious ache builds below her belly and her breath runs short as she whimpers with every lap against her clit.

\----------

The taste of her on his tongue, the way she looks spread open before him; back arched, neck long and exposed, her folds slick and wet, make his cock harden and ache even moreso. Her moans encourage him to work her, sucking and licking, as he feels himself begin to rut against the sheets. 

He hears her soft pleas of --- _more, please more_ \--- and he obliges her with one, then two, fingers filling her.

His fingers curl into her center now, before sliding out and back in again, his hips moving his trapped erection in rhythm with his fingers. Franco does this over and over until he hears the subtle change in Elizabeth’s breathing and pulls himself and her back from the brink, withdrawing his fingers and tongue to lightly plant kisses on her upper thigh and hip bone. She whines in protest and Franco lets out a soft laugh.

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that,” Elizabeth promises him as she catches her breath and sits up on her elbows, reaching for Franco’s face to bring him up on top of her. He captures her mouth with his, swiping his tongue over her lips before she pulls back to touch his mouth with her fingertips. 

“I could taste myself on your lips when you kissed me just now,” she tells him, threading her fingers through his hair.

“I know,” he says as his gaze lingers on her lips. And just as Franco is about to sink his body onto hers, Elizabeth surprises him and wraps her leg around his torso, flipping him onto his back to straddle him.

\----------

Leaning over him, hands on his pecs, Elizabeth tweaks his nipples hard and -- _fuuuck_ \-- he bucks up in response to the mix of pain and pleasure she brings him. 

As he comes down, he grabs her waist with both of his hands to anchor her onto him. He feels her sex throbbing and wet and mingling with the slickness of his erection, now rubbing up against her opening. Sensations spark and tingle and he barely sees her through her lush brown hair that falls around her face, yet he can still sense her building desire. 

“ _God, Elizabeth, I_ \--”

Before he can finish his sentence, her lips are locked on his own. Elizabeth’s tongue dives into his mouth, dancing and tasting him for barely a moment before she pulls back, passion and want pulsing through her as his mouth chases after hers for more. 

He grabs a fistful of her hair to stop her from moving further away and sees her pupils are blown. She hovers just inches above his face, her breath hot and harsh against his own, and it’s then that he feels her take his cock in her hand as she lifts herself over him. It’s an eternity that lasts a moment and then he feels her slide down slowly, his member filling her exquisitely and angled at just the right spot so that she sucks in a breath and sighs. 

It always takes a moment for her to adjust to his size and in those brief seconds Franco notices faint streaks of blue and red and gold paint now apparent on Elizabeth’s belly and torso from his caresses of just minutes ago. It was a wicked piece of art he’d painted on her, he thinks. Smiling, he knows that Elizabeth would think the same, not minding that her muse encouraged him in that direction.

She shifts to straighten up a bit more and breaks him out of his thoughts. He lets go of her hair to lightly graze the tips of his fingers over a tiny black streak made just under her ribs. He feels her shiver in response as he moves his hand now to cup and squeeze her breast, his thumb rolling over a dusky pink nipple.

\----------

Elizabeth is aching and the urgency to move hits her as she feels Franco squeezing her breast, rubbing and molding it to a peak, pinching the nipple swollen and red and extracting the same amount of pain to pleasure she treated him to, just moments before. 

She braces her legs around his hips and slowly drags herself up, eyes squeezed shut, her center gripping and pulsing around his erection, as the friction she’s created between them ceases briefly and she has to grind down on him to feel full and complete and whole again. Elizabeth hears Franco moan as she starts a hot, slow rhythm over him. 

It’s then that she feels his large hand come around her neck, gripping her hard enough to feel her pulse beating in her ears. There’s no fear, no question in Elizabeth’s mind as she allows him to take control, feeling powerful still, yet utterly at his mercy.

Franco bucks up just then, hitting her clit just right as she ungulates over him, his cock so deep in her that she see stars, the grip on her neck loosening just a fraction as they rock together in a never-ending dance of tight friction, slick heat, and aching fullness. 

“ _Franco, oh god, please-- just like that._ ” Tears sting the outer corner of her eyes as her body heats up and she shudders above him. Her eyes flutter open briefly to see Franco utterly enthralled by her moving above him, a mix of wonder and sexual desire openly displayed on his face.

“Elizabeth,” he breathes her name over and over, “Elizabeth, you’re mine. You’re so powerful, so beautiful... _ugh fuck_ , do you feel that? Do you feel how I fill you?” 

She’s too overwhelmed, her body too full of sensation that her thoughts have short-circuited and can’t answer him, so she keens softly and rolls her hips again as his erection hits her deep, making her suck in her breath.

Lost in the feel of Franco in and around her, she barely registers his movements as he lifts her slightly off him, grabbing her wrists and maneuvering then above her head as he shifts to lie on top of her.  
\----------

“Tell me about these _impulses_ again,” a sly smile forms on Elizabeth’s face, her hips pushing against his abs, encouraging him to enter her again. 

He teasingly nudges the head of his erection where she wants it, “Well, now that I know you’re not so fragile or pure, I may just continue to show you, rather than tell you,” he breathes onto her now exposed neck, nibbling just under her earlobe between words as his large hand tightens around her wrists a bit more.

“Mmmm, please do.” Elizabeth squirms under him in encouragement and he finally presses into her, once again wrapped pleasantly in her heat. 

Licking and sucking on her ear, Franco slowly builds into a rhythm. He plunges into her harder, stroke after stroke, causing Elizabeth to keen and sob. He feels her core pulsing and quivering around him as he slides out and pushes in, his cock hard and swollen.

Their foreheads rest lightly against each other as they move together, hot breaths mingling, lips barely touching as he feels her tug on his hand that holds her wrists above her head still. He lets her go and Elizabeth immediately grips his hair in her fist, pulling his head back as Franco continues to thrust into her, their bodies so tightly bound together he can't tell where she starts and he ends.

It’s when he feels her teeth bite down hard on his collarbone that he knows she’s coming, her inner walls gripping him as she comes in waves, and he follows as he spills himself inside her, shaking and sweaty and satiated. 

Franco, still a little fuzzy, feels Elizabeth caressing his face and opens his eyes to see a perfect, lazy smile on her lips; he responds by kissing her on her forehead, her nose, and then those lips. 

“We put our muses to shame, don’t we?” he asks her, a silly grin on his face.

She lightly wipes an orange paint smudge off his nose, “If we play it safe in that way, we’d be putting them to waste, don’t you think?” she agrees, getting him up from bed and leading them to her shower.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Comments are welcome :)


End file.
